A Tad Unrestrained
by lyssalu
Summary: Originally a masskink fill. Prompt: "I want to see Thane out of control, insane with need. As in, like, drugged or ill. As in, fast, hot, furious sex."  Ask and you shall receive.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Sooo, I'm finally outing myself. I published this to masskink anonymously a few months ago and someone suggested that I make this available elsewhere, so I have. Now heavily edited! This is pure, unapologetic PWP. If that's not your thang, don't read this or it will offend you. :) This will go up in 3 parts. Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer: **Mass Effect is Bioware's masterpiece.

* * *

Shepard wove her way through a sea of writhing bodies, the bulk of them hot and reeking of sweat; the ambient illumination of Afterlife ignited her as well as the crowd around her in a burst of violet-pink vibrancy as the acrid smell of batarian burned in her nasal passages. The unsightly creatures were everywhere on Omega—the droves around her consisted of the largest population she had ever seen of them in person.

She hated _being_ on Omega.

She hated the idea of Omega.

She hated the people on Omega.

_Shepard hated Omega_.

Unfortunately, being on Omega was what it took to gain Aria's favor, so the commander had, on occasion, dropped by to run a few small errands. _This_ was one such occasion. The majority of T'Loak's tasks were small, petty things and had, of course, not been asked for by the asari directly—and this time was no different. Each and every job was more of an annoyance than a challenge and Shepard suspected that they were more to test her patience than anything.

When Shepard found herself in the unpleasant situation of having to _be_ on Omega, of having to _deal _with the asari, it was normally a get in, get out kind of a thing— but this time the asari had insisted that she stick around and have some "fun" for once, the bitch pointing out her stiff and "constipated" military-esque stature and seeming lack of interest in her _club_.

It was a distant thought, but Shepard could recall the smug smirk tugging at the asari's thin lips upon the suggestion, the entire scene playing out a little like this:

Thane had stood a ways behind her, his posture alert, and his arms were pulled tightly behind his back. He had been both willing and ready to take action in defense of Shepard given only a sign. This procedure was standard—neither of them trusted anyone on Omega.

The batarian—Garka, was it?—had nodded at Shepard with an air of familiarity that she had wanted to smack out of him though she'd returned the gesture, the commander content that it had probably looked quite frigid. She'd at once sought out eye contact with Aria, the asari's usual air of despondent disinterest something that had immediately been absorbed.

She had never let the asari intimidate her, and to make this clear, Shepard had taken a seat more near to T'Loak; she had leaned back fully and had positioned herself in a way that would show Aria that she was entirely at ease in her presence. Body language was always important in these situations.

She remembered thinking that Aria was pretty hot for an asari, her unusual features almost masculine and leaving her exquisite facial structure with a particular bitchiness that Shepard had found herself aching to muster. The asari was powerful, her presence something that would raise the hairs on the back of any lesser being's neck, and Shepard _wanted_ that. The commander needed that on her side.

There had been a tense silence as Shepard had pretended to examine her armored hand, the gesture decidedly nonchalant, and the fact that Aria had even allowed it had been proof enough that she'd gained some ground with the evil bitch. Shepard had found a guilty pleasure in testing the waters with the typically irate and domineering Omega queen and had found herself smirking despite the _inconvenient_ situation she'd found herself in.

She had looked up at Aria, confidently brushing hair out of her eyes, and had dared the Asari to speak first.

"So, Shepard, I see you took care of the—"

"Mmmhmm."

"And the—"

"Sure did."

"And what about—"

"It's taken care of."

Aria's laugh had rang out like the sounding of a bitter bell, dark and unsavory, and Shepard had smirked back at her in response, the casualness that had been displayed by the commander effortless.

"Well done, Shepard." Aria had leaned back and crossed her legs, looking over at the commander seated next to her with a predatory gleam in her eye. "There may be a place for you here, after all. Why don't you grab a drink, join the party?" She had leaned forward then, her face mere inches from Shepard's. "You're not fooling _Omega_—you look like you have a stick up your ass." The last of this had been delivered with a cold sneer and Aria had gone back to feigning interest, looking away from Shepard and at nothing in particular.

Gaining Aria T'loak's trust was and had been a lengthy, enduring process—a process that Shepard had found herself quickly tiring of. Had she declined the asari's invitation, it would have been an insult, a _set back_; if the bitch wanted to see her dance, she'd dance.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." Shepard had gotten up from the couch and turned to leave, her poise authoritative; she'd brushed against Thane's shoulder purposefully, catching his eye as she'd placed a foot on the stairs descending into the club before Aria spoke to her again, which had caused Shepard to pause and look back at her.

"Why don't you rid yourself of that filthy armor while you're at it," more a statement, a demand, really, than a question. Testing her trust, her relaxation, her boundaries…the asari enjoyed the same game Shepard did.

Of course it was unreasonable, but what about Aria wasn't?

And so, that was how she'd found herself in a skimpy, leather one piece suit, courtesy of the trashy elcor market down the lane. She looked like Miranda, and goddamn, she needed a drink.

She'd ended up on the dingy dance floor of Afterlife, easily within T'Loak's penetrating gaze, absent of both weapon and armor. Regardless, she did not feel vulnerable; she was confident in her biotics as well as her hand-to-hand capabilities, not to mention more than aware of Thane's watchful eye, as well as Aria's _want_ to keep her around for a while longer.

Shepard was perhaps more safe from attack than a heavily armed krogan stomping through the financial district of the Citadel.

She was being grabbed and clawed at, but she went with it—her dance was timed to the music and she lost herself in it, the ability to ignore the needy paws gracing her scanty form increasing. The commander had ended up dancing with one of the more persistent ones, an eager batarian; she'd kept her blue eyes on his black (though she was careful not to offend him), the man's slanted, beady set pleading with her, his appreciation of her body open.

She had tolerated him for a few minutes, her body striking a rhythm to the imposing nature of the beat, until he'd tried to get a little too _fresh_, his hands gripping at a barely clothed breast and his stubby nose sniffing at her hair uninvitingly.

Under any other circumstances, there was no doubt to Shepard that she would have broken the offender's wandering fingers, but Aria was _testing_ her, and the commander never failed. As it was, she had simply swung her hips and spun around, the commander shaking his arms from her as she trotted off to the pounding of music she didn't quite care for and sought out her lover, the bar, and another round of alcohol.

When Shepard broke free of the crowd, she sighed out her relief. She searched the smoky bar with a purpose, her gaze finally landing on perfect emerald skin and soft obsidian eyes. As she sauntered towards him, her heeled boots clicked and clacked gallingly against the floor's metallic surface and she, for the umpteenth time, seethed at Aria for being such a bitch.

It had been years since she had worn anything on her feet even remotely elevated from the ground, and it put a bitter taste in her mouth; yet another reason to drink. How much had she had already? She'd lost count, but Thane would know; he always knew. She trusted he'd stop her when she'd had enough.

She took the stool next to him and he smiled at her, his expression teasing. She knew that look perfectly well.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Siha?" He had to speak louder in order for her to hear him over the noise.

Shepard looked away from him with a huff and signaled to the bartender for another drink. She plucked out strange blue fruit from the clear, condensation covered glass with a thin, pink straw and shoved it into her mouth. She was ever the lady. Strangely enough, the alien food had the texture of watermelon and tasted kind of like a coconut if it were covered in lemon juice. She liked it.

Not facing him and around a mouthful, "Oh yeah, having a real blast here. How you doin'?"

"I can't say I don't appreciate the…view."

Her ample cleavage was fully exposed, the cat suit running a silver zipper all the way down her crotch and a little past it. Of course it was only unzipped to her ribs; she was classy.

She snorted and tilted her head back, gulping down the fruity drink in one swallow. Well, that was direct. She was proud of him. She glanced over at him as she placed the cup back down on the bar and saw he was leaning on its sleek surface with an elbow, head cocked and resting on the palm of his hand.

"This leather is suffocatingly hot," she began.

"Indeed," he interjected, mindful of the innuendo.

"I don't see how you do it," she finished, smiling at him ever-so-lightly.

"Years of practice, Siha."

Shepard made a face at the drell and ordered two more drinks, one green and one pink, and she took the former in her hand and sipped at it, scooting the latter over in Thane's direction. He really needed to loosen up a little, but he ignored the glass, as expected.

"Did you see that hands-y batarian?" Of course he had, she only wanted to hear him say it.

"Ah, the one whose fingers I'd like to break one by one?"

She chuckled warmly in between sips, pleased that she'd had the exact same thought as it had happened.

"Yeah, that one." Shepard knew that Thane was far too restrained to allow himself to do such a thing to the batarian for trying to cop a feel. She took the hand his cheek wasn't resting against in hers and intertwined their fingers. She loved how widely her middle and ring digits had to spread in order to accommodate his fused ones.

"You should drink that and come dance with me and protect me from the big bad batarian." She looked at him in wistful sarcasm, coy, and then added: "It's strawberry champagne."

A burst of flavor flickered across his tongue, tart and sweet, the alcohol burning down his throat in a manner that was decidedly pleasant; his eidetic memory recalled perfectly the beverage Shepard was trying to press at him, the actions of that night between them flashing in his mind and effectively clouding it, threatening for him to relive every minute detail. He felt a little drunk for a moment, but he pushed the feeling down, and in effect, the memory.

She would be the death of him.

He observed Shepard carefully as she removed her hand from his and got up from the stool, his siha walking a few steps that were undoubtedly calculated before pausing to look over her shoulder at him, and then she sashayed away, hips swaying in a manner that was mesmerizing due to the heels he imagined she despised.

Thane turned away from the bar and stood up, leaving the drink Shepard had ordered unattended. The drell casually straightened his jacket, brushing it off in an effort to do away with any dust that had gone astray and landed on him; he then leaned back on the bar behind him, propping himself up by his elbows, looking out for Shepard as she worked her way back through the crowd.

Shepard had once again dazzled her way to the center of the expansive ocean of bodies, her movements overtly sensual; her head was thrown back, her curious hair flicking about in response to her constant beat driven motion. Her body twisted, Shepard maintaining a sharp rhythm, and her lips were parted. She seemed as unaware of the visual she was creating as she was of the attention she was attracting.

As he watched her, the memory she had shrewdly brought to the forefront of his mind mere minutes ago teased at him again, the taste of what she called _strawberries_ prickling at his tongue, bringing forth yet another memory that frayed his nerves. It made him thirsty.

He acted quickly, decisively, and with a deft hand, he grabbed the wine glass and emptied it entirely of its contents. He rolled the last mouthful about on his tongue and was surprised by the taste, his face scrunching up and his throat expanding slightly; it was not at all what he'd remembered, the flavor of it completely undesirable. It was bitter, caustic, and he cringed at the after taste it left in his mouth. She never would have talked him into it if he'd known it would taste this _horrible_.

Thane heard a pounding in his ears and felt a tickling at his spine, his eyes watering and mouth drying as if he'd accidentally taken one of the strange cotton balls his siha sometimes cleaned her nails with into his mouth and chewed on it for a prolonged period of time; he felt his knees weakening and he sat down onto a stool near him, the dark leather of his pants squeaking against the shiny material of the seat, and he braced his hands on his knees, breathing coming out in quick bursts.

He felt…ill. Unwell.

He needed to find Shepard.


	2. Chapter 2

The commander hated putting on a show for Aria, the relaxedness the asari had hoped she would find completely unobtainable when feeling as if she were being forced into doing something she _really_ didn't want to do; it bothered her that the woman was so persistent in giving her suggestions concerning her personal life, the unrelenting prodding something that confused Shepard and frankly made her feel uncomfortable.

The commander didn't want any part of Afterlife, the club hitting a little close to home, but after a few more drinks it didn't matter. T'Loak's games were getting old, but snubbing the asari wasn't in her best interests, so she wouldn't.

It was…harmless, the club, the dancing, and she slowly found herself not minding it. She slipped into a rhythm with one of the patrons in front of her, close but not too close, not allowing the turian to think that she might be interested. She couldn't always be all business; perhaps Aria was right for pushing her.

Thane seemed to understand the symbolic importance of Shepard's staying, at least; she might have a little more fun, though, if she could just draw him out. She was good at cracking the reserved drell's resolve, sometimes at least, but she didn't think that tonight she'd be making any ground. He had been playful with her, a sign that he had noticed her distress and wished to calm her, but he still looked a fraction stiff, uncomfortable; Thane didn't want to be there anymore than she did, but he stayed, quiet and not complaining for her benefit.

Shepard batted away at yet another unwanted hand and merged in between two other people, one a dark blue asari and the other a human female, both obviously fucked up beyond belief on haelix; they were spacey, their movements strange and erratic, sexual to the point of being, ironically, _unsexy_. It disgusted her; it reminded her of Morinth as well as the days the commander herself had been less than wholesome, and she was suddenly very, very pissed off. 

The asari had melded herself against the commander unexpectedly, a leg pushing itself in between Shepard's thighs, a hand reaching out for her and smoothing itself along a rib that her revealing clothing had left exposed; Shepard's face crinkled and she gripped the hand harshly, removing it from her skin as if it were a snake. She dislodged the asari from her, her treatment of the blue bimbo far rougher than it had needed to be.

Oh man, she'd had enough. Aria T'Loak could stuff it.

She shoved her way through the throbbing throng of people, knocking a few of them over in her rush, and wormed her way closer to the bar she had left Thane sitting at. Though the spot was within view, she saw no sign of the drell or the drink that she had purchased for him. A smile played at her mouth and as she waded through the crowd, she felt a pair of arms grab her about the waist.

She stiffened at first, the stranger's soft lips brushing cautiously against her neck, before she caught scent of him—citrus, coffee, leather—and saw the dark chartreuse pigmentation of his skin.

Shepard twisted around in Thane's embrace and grinned up at him, her arms winding themselves around his neck. She was mindful of the exaggerated collar of his jacket and his hands steadied at her waist.

Shepard pressed her nose to the ribbing that lined the hollow of his neck and inhaled. "Decide to join me, after all?"

His eyes closed and he held her closer, his voice both deeper and raspier than usual. "Perhaps," he paused and the ridges of his brow bowed downward. "I am…I feel very strange, Siha."

"Yeah, wow." She pulled back from him and cupped his cheeks in her hands, his skin hot to the touch, and gave him a once over. "You aren't looking so great."

There was something off in his expression and his eyes had a sort of sickly glisten to them—the commander felt nervous. He was probably just _toasted_. She held on to the thought that the drell had simply had a few more drinks than the one she had purchased for him.

Shepard chewed on her lower lip before gripping one of the hands that had been around her waist and tugging on it, the commander intent on leading Thane away from the dance floor. She was careful not to bump into anyone—the poor drell looked like he could puke.

He was obviously disoriented, and the more Shepard chanced a glance at him, the more she noticed the expansion of his hyoid bone. The skin of his throat was a shade too dark and it made her feel uneasy. She had no fucking clue what to do with an ailing drell, so she careened towards the unisex bathroom nearest to them and hoped for the best.

The lighting in the restroom was stark, the brightness unpleasant in comparison to the rest of the club's purple-hued vibe; it was harsh and it made Shepard's sweat-beaded skin look garish and unsightly. It took a second for the commander's eyes to adjust, and when she saw Thane's tightly closed, she knew the sudden contrast must have agitated him as well.

She guided the sickly drell over to the counter top and he leaned heavily against it, not saying a word, just looking all shades of perplexed and _confounded_. She turned on the faucet, cold water spattering out across her fingertips, and she was inconvenienced to see that the worn restroom was lacking towelettes or any other type of material she might use to soothe his fevered skin.

She let the fluid moisten her palms before moving over to Thane, patting her dampened hands against his textured forehead; he relaxed marginally in front of her and opened his eyes, his hands pressed against the countertop in order to hold himself up. The way he broke the silence was abrupt.

"You've never looked so beautiful, Siha."

A smiled tugged at her lips and Shepard still worked to cool his skin, gentle in her ministrations. "God, Thane, you must be really sick." Or drunk.

Really, really _drunk_.

The moment hung between them and Shepard felt surprisingly at peace—she searched his eyes and she wanted _desperately_ to know what Thane was thinking. His behavior was _odd_. She was only thankful that he hadn't started vomiting. He caressed her cheek and smiled.

The sound of piss hitting a metallic urinal ruined the moment and Thane slumped against her, tugging her body closely to him and nuzzling into her neck. His tongue flicked out to tease along her sensitive flesh and without warning, he was suddenly all over her, his fingers kneading into her waist, her lower back, her ass; she fought to suppress a laugh—he was like an octopus, his hands everywhere at once, feeling and groping and cupping. Instead of giggles he earned gasps and the commander's ability to reason.

He pulled at her, trying to compress her even more tightly against him. When he pressed his need against her and began to unzip the front of her outfit, the commander stilled, the grip she'd had on his biceps firming as she pulled away to make eye contact with him.

"Wait now." Her breathing was heavy and she had to pause, a swallow bobbing its way down her throat. "Thane, not _here_." He interrupted her with a dry peck to the lips and she pulled back even farther. "You're not feeling well, remember?"

"On the contrary," Thane argued as his fingers teased at the commander's recently exposed belly button. "I feel…incredible."

Thane launched himself off of the sink and pushed at Shepard's shoulders, his persistence backing her into a stall; he pulled the door to a close behind them and the gruffness with which the drell had completed these actions almost would've frightened her if she hadn't have found it all so _sexy_.

Within seconds, he was on her again, and his fingers tangled in her hair as his tongue slid along her clavicle, the drell tasting the saline tinge of sweat on her skin.

Shepard had never seen the drell act so needy and _aggressive_; his manner took her off guard, but she had little time to think deeply on it—he thrust his tongue into her mouth in a way that was _forceful _and his hand wiggled its way through the thin leather of the _slut suit_ she'd been cornered into. He squeezed her braless breast and she caved against him, her fingers digging into his leather adorned back, and she almost found herself laughing again.

She wasn't going to complain.

She _certainly_ wasn't going to protest.

After Thane successfully peeled the suit off of her by its shoulder pads, she bounded onto him, which forced Thane to hold her full weight up by grabbing her ass; this caused him to slam into the stall door and Shepard braced her hands against it before wrapping her legs around the back of his hips.

Not missing a beat, he latched onto her mouth again with his, his tongue exploring her fully; he slid across her teeth, poked at her gums, and probed her mouth thoroughly. Her tongue met his and she stroked against the wet muscle with fervor, which tugged a hoarse groan from Thane's throat and caused him to buck into her. He shifted her weight in his arms and she held the back of Thane's head in her hands, her fingers caressing over the spiked ridges from crown to the base of his neck—her lips still worked against his with vehemence.

She knew they should probably stop. Thane wasn't himself, and if he wasn't drunk—well, she didn't know what the fuck had come ever him. Everything felt so _dirty_ and she was a little buzzed herself, but it was really unlike the drell to get them into these sorts of situations. She kind of wanted to ride it out, but she didn't want to take advantage and—

He flipped them, his actions abrupt, and their kiss broke—this time Shepard's back slammed into the stall door. She gasped, the chilly feeling of metal against her flushed skin icy enough to raise goose bumps. Thane gripped her underneath a thigh and shoved most of her weight onto the door, and with his other hand, tugged off one of her boots, the spiked heel whapping sharply against begrimed tile. He only had to shift her slightly in order to repeat the action on the other.

Shepard wiggled her toes freely, a sigh of relief escaping her reddened lips—she was sure there were blisters visible on the bottoms of her feet and she felt a true sense of gratitude for the shoes' removal.

"Thanks," she whispered and pinched a little at the back of his neck.

He chuckled against the junction of her shoulder and neck and the vibrations from it sent tingles spreading throughout her body—her nipples hardened and she arched her back off of the wall, shivering, and the tinny taste of the chemicals in her mouth was indicative of the high brought on by drell bodily fluids that was well on its way to commencement.

Shepard closed her eyes tightly and inhaled, these actions her attempts at preparing herself for the euphoric wave of heightened senses that she knew was about to hit. The coldness at her back was suddenly very, very imposing, and for a moment, it was all the commander could concentrate on.

There was no stopping this now.

Thane's hands gripped at her hips and rubbed against her pelvis bone, the scales scraping against her skin creating a burn that sent sparks winding up her torso. The nerves along the skin of her stomach tingled and feeling prickled down her spine, and when his nails dug in, her hips convulsively rolled into him. His hard cock pressed against her center, and though the sensation was muted due to the leather between them, the high she was experiencing made the feel almost overwhelming enough to make her black out.

Sweat dripped down the back of her neck like Chinese water torture, only it felt really fucking good, and her jaw dropped—she was gasping and she felt like she couldn't get enough air, her unsteady breaths causing her tongue to cool and her mouth to dry. Her ears were ringing from too much noise though the sounds around them were quiet, and when she opened her eyes, spots danced before them.

Her mind was a fucking haze.

She bit her lip and Thane rolled his hips into her again, Shepard's arms flailing out and gripping blindly at the top of the stall door. She felt _strange_—her hair felt alive, like it was fucking breathing, and the feel of it against the back of her neck and the sides of her face was making her palms itch and sweat. Everywhere felt prickly and her skin seemed impossibly tight, and insanely, she wanted to _shed _it.

The first few minutes of the hallucinations were the worst—the toxin rapidly overloaded her nervous system before taming a little, allowing her just a bit more focus. She felt it passing and when Thane's movements against her started to feel like they weren't going to make her scream and cry at how good they made her, she calmed down.

Adapting to everything always seemed to happen so _slow_ to the commander.

When Shepard could finally breathe again, she grabbed the back of Thane's head and tugged him down for another ardent kiss. He dropped her legs from his grip and her bare feet touched the cold floor a little delicately and if she hadn't been so turned on, she might have been disgusted at having any part of her touch the bathroom floor of Afterlife, but she was—and she was so wet that she couldn't keep patient for much longer.

She broke the kiss, her lips burning. "Goddamn, Thane," she rasped. "I need you inside me, fucking me _right now_ or I'm gonna _die_."

The assassin kissed Shepard's dimpled chin before dragging his tongue up the line of her jaw, dropping a little to nibble at her earlobe. His voice was loud and gruff in her ear. "Siha…I am more than willing to…" His teeth sank down on tender flesh and she cried out. "Oblige."

Thane tugged the rest of the trashy clothing off of her, the commander now fully naked—she'd gone commando out of fear of panty line—and flopped the suit over the side of one of the stall walls before he worked to remove his own clothing.

His fingers were quick, deftly unbuckling and unzipping where need be. Shepard was sure her stare of fascination was obvious—in all the time she'd been intimate with him, she'd still failed to get the hang of taking off that complicated jacket.

The pants, though, she could handle, and by the time Thane had bared his chest before her, she had unzipped them and began tugging them down his muscular thighs. His torso was beautiful—black stripes zigzagged in exotic patterns across his demantoid hued skin, an intriguing patch of ribbing matching the color and texture of his throat leading downward and reminding the commander very much of a happy trail.

Thane finished the job, toeing off his boots and stepping out of the leather with grace despite his seeming drunkenness. The way he was looking at her caused goose bumps to flare out and spread on her skin and she trembled—she wanted to feel him against her, but she wanted him to make the first move.

He had started this, and she'd be damned if he wasn't going to finish it.

Thane advanced toward her and placed his hand at the small of her back to pull her to him; her sensitive nipples hit against the roughness of his chest and her fingers dug into his shoulders, the feel of it so overwhelming her toes curled. He squeezed her ass and she moaned, their lips colliding once more.

She wanted to cut the fucking foreplay and for him to just do it already and she cried out in frustration, the kiss breaking. Her chest heaved and she begged him with her eyes, silent communication something that they had mastered long ago. Thane complied and spun her around, abruptly bending her over. Her forehead bumped into the stall with force and a muttered 'ouch' escaped her already parted lips, and she belatedly shoved her hands out to brace herself against the door.

That the assassin wanted to fuck her in this position was strange—in all of the times she had suggested it before, he had promptly turned her down; he always used the excuse that he wanted to see her face and that it was too "impersonal" otherwise. She felt kind of concerned again, a nervous feeling erupting in the pit of her stomach, but when she felt the tip of his cock slide against her wet entrance, she found that she once again wasn't going to be one to question.

She was sure he was just drunk off his ass and all he needed was to get this out of his system and—

He sheathed himself inside of her with unrestrained force and without warning, every inch of him burying into her entirely. Shepard groaned and rocked forward onto her tiptoes, her forehead once again banging into the stall door with a thud. She cried out so loudly it strained her voice and she spasmed around him, the angle at which he'd entered her making her vision splotchy; she could feel him so deeply inside of her that she could feel butterflies in the pit of her stomach and it was all so good she was almost sobbing.

Thane was so fucking thick she could hardly stand it, the ridges and ribs lining his cock stroking her in all the right places, and where he normally would have paused and allowed her to adjust to his girth, he kept going, thrusting into her harshly, his fingers digging into her hips so deeply she was sure to have bruises.

She didn't _care_, she just wanted him to keep going, to keep fucking her; she was stressed out and rough sex was _exactly_ what she needed.

Every time Thane pushed himself deeply inside of her, she choked out a sob.

"Siha," he groaned, his name for her posed as a question accentuated by an outward thrust.

Shepard inhaled before breathing out with a moan and then expelled a strained answer. "Yeah?"

"I want you to," an inward thrust, "cum for me," out again, "right now."

She jerked against the bathroom stall and tried to bury her face in it, a cheek smooshed against it, and her hands clung to it as if her life was depending on it. She gasped and fought for air, and when she finally got enough breath, the confusion in her voice was tangible.

"But, we're…" She paused to gulp for more air and groaned when he pushed into her again. "We're just getting started."

Thane's only response was to reach around her and trail a hand down her stomach, searching. When his fingers found her clit he rubbed against it in quick, jerky circles.

"Oh, god, no, fuck no, Thane, stop I'm, oh _fuck_."

Shepard's mind fell apart and she exploded, cries of gibberish mixed with swears and how good everything was ripping their way through her throat no matter how hard she tried to fight it. She was shaking and her legs were so close to giving out that she was sure that she would've collapse had Thane not been holding her up. He was relentless, still thrusting in and out of her at the same rate despite the intensity of Shepard's orgasm and she kind of wanted to cry.

She had the blurry thought that she was going to die if he _didn't_ stop fucking her.

She had never seen this side of him, but she loved it. His movements were desperate against her, but he showed no signs of stopping, his hips snapping roughly and melting Shepard into a muttering ball of moans. Something had come over Thane, and he was acting like the answer to whatever was causing him to behave this way was inside of her and the only way he could learn the secret was to fuck it promptly out of her.

Whatever it was, whatever he needed, Shepard wanted him to find it, and she pushed back against him as best she could in the position she was in. She could hear his breath coming out behind her in shallow puffs and he bent down, licking a trail up her spine and to her neck. The mere action almost caused her to cum again, _almost_, and she jolted against the stall when he bit down on her shoulder hard enough to break skin.

She bit down on her own lip hard enough to draw blood in response—Thane must have seen it or smelt it, because he moved a hand under her waist to balance her as he tipped her chin up and over with the other, the action forcing her to look back at him, and he licked at the blood that had begun to trail down her mouth. He captured her lips with his and she tasted the metallic flavoring of it on his tongue—how _dirty_ it all was made her impossibly wetter.

He released her face and Shepard turned back around, licking her lips. She'd never been fucked so good in her life and she _never_ wanted him to stop. There was a tightness budding in her stomach again, her pleasure building and threatening to topple over—she tried to stop being so noisy, but it was something she was _failing_ at.

A particularly hard thrust rocked through her and Shepard found herself practically on the ground, climaxing again, and she was so disoriented that for a moment she couldn't even hear the moans that had shrieked from her throat, let alone figure out what the hell had just happened.

She was still on her feet, but her hands were pressed firmly against the cool bathroom tile, Thane's fingers on her hips the only thing keeping her from collapsing all together; her hamstrings burned and pulled tightly in loud protest to the awkward position and she felt all the blood in her body rushing to her face; even so, Thane wasn't stopping, and her hair flopped about before her eyes, thankfully blocking her from being able to see the dirty floor beneath her hands.

Seconds later, she concluded that he had _railed_ into her so hard he'd broken the lock on the stall door she had been heavily propped up against, it bursting open unceremoniously in response, and thus heaping her onto the ground in an undignified manner.

She felt scaly hands wrapping and winding their way up her torso, moving up to her breasts and gripping them painfully. It was delicious. She let out a gasp as he hefted her into an upright position and backed her further into the stall, and briefly, she caught sight of a disgruntled turian relieving himself in a urinal, looking their way, disapproval abundant upon his avian features.

He looked…_familiar_, his visage marked with red face paint, but before she could place where she'd seen him, Thane pushed the door closed with one foot, balancing against her on the other, and then pulled out of her as he shoved her back into a different wall of the stall, this time allowing her to turn and face him.

Thane grabbed one of her legs and hooked her thigh back around him, Shepard automatically doing the same with the other, and he had her pinned against the wall, his erection pressing against her stomach in teasing contact. She wrapped her arms around him and he gazed at her, their eyes making contact, and the commander took the moment of pause to catch her breath.

Everything suddenly seemed fragile somehow, and Shepard felt the heavy thudding of his heart against hers; she wanted this to last forever. She held her hand against his cheek as he regained his breath against her—he still didn't look like he felt quite right. Thane broke the still and lazily kissed down her cheek before moving down to suck at her neck as he shifted to enter her once again.

To help him, Shepard pushed back against the wall, struggling to use all of the strength in her shoulders and thighs to lift up against the drell; when she'd finally managed to wiggle her way up far enough, her wetness briefly teasing the head of his cock, he shoved into her again. He wasn't able to bury himself quite as deep as he had before because of the change in position, but he was deep enough—Shepard couldn't help but writhe against him.

The commander arched, this time the _back_ of her head smacking against the stall, and cried out as he began to love her again. His thrusts were slower this time—torturous. Each stroke rubbed inside of her _perfectly_ and she whimpered. Thane gasped against her and didn't stop the sluggish pace he had set, still maintaining eye contact with her; there was little to no space between them and the combination of his rhythm and their closeness was so intimate that it made her eyes sting.

Her voice was hoarse and her throat was sore, her vocal chords strained from overuse, and she knew her body would ache when they were through, but her soul felt whole. Shepard leaned in and kissed the drell, softly biting and sucking at his lower lip, and he moaned into her mouth before he nibbled down her chin to her neck.

He dragged the slickness of his tongue and teeth across her skin, leaving marks on her, and ran one of his hands up to palm her breast. He still moved against her and pried whimpers from her pouted lips. He was forceful with her, yet gentle at the same time, and every action culminated into a kind of pleasure Shepard hadn't experienced before.

She was really looking forward to having more nights like this.

Due to his roughness with her, an itch was beginning to spread out across Shepard's stomach, bumps rising like hives. The ointment she had been using had proven kind of worthless in the face of the almost violent contact of his skin against hers. She would be feeling all of this in the morning, but right now, with Thane rolling into her, it was barely registering and her only thought was of getting him off.

Thane bit and sucked at the hollow of her throat and quickened his pace again and Shepard felt a tightening in her stomach, the butterflies again. He moved his hands from where he'd had them placed against the stall by either side of Shepard's head, using them instead to grip the back of her hips forcefully.

Thane took a few measured steps back, moving her lower half with him in an effort to keep his length sheathed inside of her, and Shepard slid half way down the stall, her shoulder blades sticking and barely catching her. The situation felt kind of precarious and she was sure she would have slipped and done a hand stand if Thane had left too much slack between them—he was applying just the right amount of pressure to ensure that her shoulders stayed pressed against the wall.

Had Shepard been capable of rational thought, she would have added a crick in the neck to the list of body parts and ailments that were going to be making her their bitch tomorrow. If the position was in any way painful at the moment, it didn't register. She didn't care, all she knew was that she wanted more, and he wanted to give it to her.

The commander wasn't quite sure what to do with her hands, Thane barely within reach, and every which way she put them felt abnormal. She settled for throwing one above her head, the limb bent at the elbow and resting against the coldness of the stall as well as atop her crown, and allowed the other one to flop lifelessly beside her, knuckles whacking against metal, or rather what would have been beside her had she not found herself horizontal, midair, and completely at Thane's mercy.

She was absolutely _positive_ that this was the roughest, most wonderful fuck she'd ever had, entirely different than their usual love making, this very much minus the sweet and with a good multiplication of the primal in the purest sense of the word. His hips jerked against her, his cock hard and throbbing, and she thrashed, helplessly caught between Thane and the stall wall. The muscles in her torso rippled in an effort to keep herself from hitting the ground.

Shepard opened her eyes and the sweat that had beaded on her forehead threatened to blind her. Thane looked beautiful—he was the image of an individual totally _enraptured_. Looking at him made her feel further motivated. She pushed the back of her shoulders against the wall with so much strength that it hurt her so that she could generate enough movement in her body to meet his thrusts.

The noises he was making were driving her _crazy_ and the coupling of their voices together sounded beautiful; in that moment, more so than in any other, Shepard had a strong longing to be able to hear the other sounds she knew he was making, the ones that were unfortunately beyond human perception.

Despite her handicap, she was sure he was getting closer and closer to his goal, his moans indicating this and his thrusting into her growing less and less controlled; he seemed stuck, unable to reach his climax, like he needed a _push_, and she could happily supply him with one.

She squeezed her thighs around him as she gathered her breath. "Thane…fuck. God, you're so _good_." A whimper interrupted her and her voice cracked. "I want you to cum inside me." Her breathing grew heavier and she squeezed her eyes shut—gathering the concentration to speak was difficult. "Please cum for me, Krios. _Please_."

She didn't think she'd actually peak again though she'd felt it building—she'd never been a multiple orgasm kind of girl—but when she felt him tense against her and the hotness of his fluid shoot inside of her, she came far harder than she had the first two times. Her name was on his lips and she reveled in the feeling of him reaching his completion inside of her; her back arched in a stunning show of flexibility, her fists clenching at nothing and her knuckles whitening.

Shepard didn't think she was ever going to come down, the sound of her heart beating rapidly in her ears the only thing she could hear, black spots bursting obnoxiously in her eyes, and she felt Thane's hands sliding up the small of her back. He hefted her up, her legs still around him and gripping him tightly, before walking backward a few paces and leaning against the wall opposite to the one he had just fucked her against. He steadied her in his arms before he allowed himself to collapse onto the floor.

She was a babbling heap in his lap and Thane slumped against her bonelessly. Shepard was talking to him, not quite knowing what she was saying because her high still hadn't worn off, but he wasn't responding—perhaps unable to.

Shepard held his head in her arms and cradled it, murmuring, and she pushed at his chest so that she could see his face. He smiled up at her, his breathing heavy, and ran fingers through sweat dampened hair.

"It seems I was correct, Siha," his eyes closing, arms going even more limp.

"Mmm, how's that?"

"You are astonishingly beautiful, a memory to cherish." And with that, he was out.

Shepard tried waking him, a little shocked that he had feinted, but soon gave up. She was sobering, freezing her ass off and feeling a little dirty at getting so thoroughly fucked in such a tastelessly public area, but loving every second of it none-the-less; she was at a loss as to what she should do, though, and after ten minutes passed and he still hadn't come to, she started to feel a little panicky.

She may have been bare-assed on the floor of a low scale restroom with a nude, passed out assassin beside her, both of them looking the worse for wear, but what the hell, she was Commander fucking Shepard, and she'd be damned if she wouldn't find a way out of this.

Shepard moved to redress herself, dignity intact.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **This is the last of it. :) Thank you so much for reading, and for the kind reviews!

* * *

Shepard awoke to the sound of vomiting, a little miffed to find herself startled out of sleep. She opened her eyes laggardly and then immediately closed them, her head panging out a sharp protest. For a moment, she didn't know where she was—she blinked, her eyes blurry, and the crisp, white sheets she was draped in smelled of familiarity.

She relaxed, a gust of air puffing from her lungs. The commander was in her quarters, in her bed—she'd actually fucking made it back.

It was a miracle.

Shepard stretched out her limbs and her entire body erupted in pain; she cried out, at first confused, but then the events of the previous night flooded her mind.

A crooked smile tugged at her lips then and she scratched at the burning itch that fired its way up her torso. She winced, the hive like rash lining its way down her arms, her stomach, and blazing on her thighs; it was everywhere, the worst it had ever been. She kind of wanted to scream.

It was okay.

It had been _worth_ it.

Holy fuck, what a night.

The events that had unfolded after their monumental act of shagging were now vivid in Shepard's mind, some of them making her want to squirm. She'd had to dress the drell while he was conked out, a real feat that she still didn't know how she'd even managed, and then carry him off of the shithole that was Omega hefted over a shoulder.

That shoulder was now very angry with her.

When she'd walked through the place, she hadn't really attracted a lot of glances and it had almost concerned her that something like that had looked _normal_. T'Loak had seen her, the queen perched upon the thrown of Afterlife, and had laughed at her mockingly (or was it a laugh of approval?).

Aria had offered her a piece of advice, shouting it from a distance:

"The next time you want to fuck in my bathrooms, Shepard: Don't."

When she'd finally gotten back on the Normandy…oh, it had been a mess—a painfully embarrassing _mess_. Kelly had actually winked at her as Jack gave her a knowing slap on the back, and Joker had landed one of his usual quips, something along the lines of: "Have a rough night, Commander?"

She had been just a little offended that their minds had jumped straight to _sex_, that they hadn't even _entertained_ the possibility that they had been jumped or beaten by batarians or something, though this was likely due to her drunken, freshly fucked swagger and rosy tinted cheeks.

Mordin…Mordin had been the worst, though.

It had been something like…

"Ah, Shepard. Happy to see you. Had fun, yes? Thane is fine, no permanent damage. Just came into contact with a stimulant. Seems you've taken care of the problem."

She couldn't quite recall the specifics, only the creepy smile he'd offered and the gentle clasping of his hands in front of him after intricately explaining in vast scientific detail exactly what had happened, that he'd been jabbering at around a hundred miles per hour not helping in the least.

Shepard groaned and pulled a pillow over her head, the muscles in her arms crying out at the action. She was miserable. It was all kind of funny, actually, but the commander wasn't in a laughing mood; she was hung over, cranky, achy, and flat out _exhausted_, the latter a fact which alerted her to what had caused her to startle awake in the first place.

She heard a gag again, coming from the direction of her bathroom, and then noticed the emptiness of the bed around her. She leapt off the bed and then staggered, her legs tangling in the sheets. She swung out to balance herself against her nightstand, which knocked her alarm clock onto the floor in the process.

"Aw, shit," she hissed, not bothering to pick up the annoying technological object at her feet. Her body was far too aching to even bend over.

She ripped the blankets off of her person irately, grabbing the bottle of ointment from the table she had previously used to steady against, and applied the lotion to herself in large globs on the way to the bathroom. She stopped on her way there in front of her private terminal, the thing blinking at her obnoxiously, and she imagined the yeomen's voice ringing out to her and saying, "Commander, you've received a new message at your private terminal."

She leaned over her desk, still applying the salve to her abused skin, and then called out to Thane, "I'll be there in a minute, babe." She didn't really know if he'd heard her. Poor guy must've had a terrible hangover, not that he'd done very much drinking. She'd have to give it to him for being such a lightweight later. Either that or it was a bad reaction to the stimulant. Mordin hadn't said anything about possible allergic reactions, but the thought kind of worried her.

She shrugged and tapped a button and her terminal lit up orange, her message archive popping up and flickering at her. There was a new one waiting for her from an unknown user, so she pulled it open, blue eyes gliding over the screen sluggishly.

"Human,

I got your info from T'Loak, and I gotta tell you something. Stop fucking with me. It's like every time I just wanna take a piss you're there, lurking over my shoulder, doing something weird and inappropriate and human-like. I wasn't even on the same planet, for fuck's sake, and there you are, wavin' your fuckin' tits around, disturbing the only time I ever get to myself. Next time I take a shit, I'm gonna be scared your face'll pop outta my—"

Shepard closed out of it quickly, horrified. Oh, god. She _knew_ she recognized that face—he was the turian from the Citadel bathroom she'd woken up in after she'd gotten a little _too_ wasted. He was probably the reason T'Loak had called her out as she was leaving and, oh…that was…that was too much. She promptly deleted the e-mail, refusing to read the rest of it, pushing the embarrassing incident from her mind entirely, and turned to walk into her own bathroom.

She was shocked at first to see Thane's nude form huddled in the corner of the small space near the toilet, his knees bent up in front of him and hands clasped as if praying. His eyes were squinted shut and he had startled when she'd entered the room, visibly trembling. Shepard didn't know how to respond to it, the blood draining from her face, and she felt suddenly that she might puke as well.

Not a second had passed before she was down on her knees in front of him, prying at his hands and stroking his face with the urgency of a mother trying to protect and console her child. He only responded by backing into the wall, trying to get as far away from her as possible. His body closed off from her even further and he brought his arms up to shield his face from her view.

Shepard was horrified, the drell's skin so cool to the touch that it was alarming.

She tried reaching out towards him again, her fingertips brushing against his hand, and he cried out, flinching, jerking his arm away from her. The commander was confused at the picture of devastation before her and she sat back on her haunches, almost too frightened to speak. She remained like that for a few frustrated seconds before erupting.

"Thane, snap out of it!" She grabbed his wrists and tugged, moving his arms away from his face and forcing him to look at her. "What's _wrong_ with you?"

It _hurt_ to see Thane like this—Shepard didn't understand it. He was refusing to make eye contact, despondent and gaze downcast; he was constant in his need to avoid her touch. She eventually stopped trying and just looked at him, thinking, trying to figure out what was wrong because it was becoming abundantly clear to her that he wasn't interested in speaking with her. Just as she was considering asking EDI to send word for Chakwas, Thane broke the silence, finally looking at her.

"My soul aches for what my body has done to you, and I wonder, how is it that you can still muster the kindness to look at me?"

Shepard's eyebrows rose in surprise, and for a second she wasn't really sure what to say. Thane pulled his wrists from her grasp and clasped his hands in front of him, once again averting his gaze.

"Whoa, whoa, hey now." Shepard reached out to stroke his cheek, surprised at the wetness she found there; this time, he did not recoil from it, having given in to her affections. "What are you talking about?"

She was met with silence, the drell's refusal to respond once again evident. Her ears were ringing, a migraine pounding away at her temples—the biotic implant in the back of her neck buzzed in her ear, but she couldn't hear it, because the lack of his voice in her world was deafening.

The commander shivered as a chill passed through her and she shifted her knees against the hardness of the tile, in the back of her mind wishing that she hadn't gone to bed naked. The more he didn't speak, didn't look at her, the more pressing the quiet became; she felt like she was going to blow up any second and she bit down on her lip, her teeth harsh against tender skin.

"_Why won't you just look at me_?" Shepard had nearly shouted this, her voice echoing off the walls of the small room.

"Because when I do, I see the evidence of what I've done and bile rises in my throat, constricting in my stomach. Look at what I have done to you, Shepard."

The use of her last name caused her to falter, her breath hitching; that hurt a lot more than her fatigued body did. The pounding in the commander's head was incessant, causing her eyes to burn in their sockets; she ran a hand across her forehead and felt the knot that had risen there, and she looked down at the floor beneath her knees.

To accompany the rash on her breasts, stomach, and thighs, bruises marred her skin, as well as whelps and scratches. Shepard honestly couldn't recall any of that happening, but she certainly didn't mind it. She may have come out of a suicide mission both feeling and looking better than this, but being with Thane had been _worth_ it. The commander didn't understand what the problem was.

"You were just…a tad unrestrained, that's all. It's nothing a little medigel won't fix, nothing to lose your head over. I'll even let you doctor me." She smiled at him weakly, but he didn't see it, still not looking at her.

"'Just a tad unrestrained?'" his brow shot up in distress. "Siha, I have _hurt_ you. I had thought it a nightmare, flashes in my mind upon my waking; soft flesh, pale like milk beneath my touch, pliant limbs giving into my action, my urges, my needs, but not of their own volition; the voice of a strong woman—my siha—crying out, begging for it to stop, telling me—"

"Oh, wait just a goddamned second here, baby, that's not how I'm remembering this at _all_."

"Tell me then, Shepard, how are you remembering this? I'm interested in knowing why you're under the impression that your memory is any better than mine."

Her face reddened and she felt her temper flaring, but she bit the inside of her cheek in order to rein it in. If this were about anything else, she might have punched him and threw a screaming fit over his mockery of her. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her arms crossed in front of her chest, before becoming excessively animated.

"Okay, well, first of all," Shepard gestured with a finger to emphasize the 'first,' then continued to wave her finger at him while making her point. "You were really, really out of it, like off your ass drugged, so I doubt your perfect little memory is working very well this morning. Mordin thinks some kind of stimulant made it into the champagne I ordered you, so if anything, the blame is on m—"

Thane interrupted her midstream and she clamped her jaw closed with a snap. "It doesn't matter. My soul became disconnected and I allowed for my body to lose control. I myself am at fault for this, Shepard. You can't place this blame on yourself; I will not accept it."

Shepard snorted at him derisively. "You're being a little melodramatic, don't you think? Hell, when I woke up this morning, I was _happy_ about last night. You don't even have a full memory of what happened."

Thane seemed to ignore her attempts to reason with him, pressing on, his tone of voice broken. "All of my efforts to atone, they have been in _vain_. There is nothing I can do to save myself now; when it comes time for me to embrace the sea, my soul will be lost…in facing all I have done, I find that this is the most suitable outcome."

Shepard sat in shell-shocked silence before reacting, not quite able to believe that he had gone…_there_. They didn't talk about the whole "embrace the sea" thing; that was a touchy subject for them, something they had learned not to discuss often with the other. It led to head butting. It really wasn't that, though, that bothered her. It was the fact that he'd said it so hopelessly; she didn't want to think about his soul being lost and it made her angry that he'd said it.

"God dammit, Thane Krios, as your CO I forbid you from ever saying shit like that _again_. In fact, if you do, I'm going to fucking _airlock_ you." She prodded him in the chest and then continued her tirade. "Now sit there, shut up, and let me finish." She then paused, trying to remember where she'd left off. When she did, her expression looked as if a light bulb had just flickered on above her head.

"Second of all," she gestured with two fingers for emphasis this time. "My 'pliant limbs' were very much doing things of their own 'volition.' The whole thing was entirely consensual, so you need to push any thought of forced sex out of your mind _right now_. Besides, do you really think I'd be sitting in front of you right now not kicking your ass if you'd actually _raped_ me? It fucking boggles my mind that you could even _think_ that."

The question stumped him, but he responded anyway, honestly wanting to know. "Then why did you keep telling me no, telling me to stop?"

She'd suddenly just figured out some of the things she'd been incoherently babbling about throughout the whole bathroom sex thing and felt really embarrassed at having to explain herself, doubly so because she hadn't thought of how it'd sound to him. Shepard felt awkward, her face turning a delicate shade of pink. It wasn't their first cultural misunderstanding, but it was definitely the...most uncomfortable. "Humans just…sometimes say that when they, uh…really like something."

"Interesting, because you've never said it before."

Shepard ran her tongue across her teeth and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, well, you've never _been_ like that before."

"That is exactly my point."

She rolled her eyes at him like a child, utterly tired of the whole conversation and wishing he'd just _understand_. "Well, your point sucks. A little rough sex never hurt anybody."

He blinked at her as if she were foolish and Shepard's body seemed to agree with him, screaming at her every time she moved in a way it didn't approve of. This was the first time she'd ever sat naked in front of someone in a bathroom, conversing seriously with them, and trying desperately to convince them that they hadn't just raped her. She suddenly felt absurd and laughter bubbled upward and out of her mouth, quiet at first, but soon reducing her to hysterics.

"This isn't the slightest bit humorous."

She couldn't stop and she was doubled over her knees, her arms hugging her ribs and her face mere inches from the ground. She was giggling so much tears were dribbling down her cheeks. Thane eventually touched the crown of her head, petting her hair to try and gain her attention. She finally stopped, breathless, and looked up at him with a grin, all of her previous anger dissipating.

"I promise you didn't rape me, button eyes."

"And I didn't hurt you?"

"No, you didn't. You made me feel great. Now, will you drop it and stop looking so dejected? I can't stand it."

The assassin just sat, dumbfounded, looking like he didn't quite know what to say. She wasn't sure if he was over it, but she leaned forward and kissed him tentatively anyway, her hand under his chin, and he gently stroked her arm with his fingertips.

"Will you grant me forgiveness, Siha?"

"Does a bear shit in the woods?"

He made a low sound in his throat. "That is…an interesting human idiom."

"I know, it's one of my favorites." Shepard got up from her position on the floor, her knees thanking her, and walked over to turn on the shower, shoving the knob to the left; the commander stood with her arms crossed while she waited, shivering, for the water to warm.

She wanted to forget that they'd had this conversation, and make him forget it too. Unfortunately, she couldn't do that, so she settled for distracting him. "You should get in here with me. I'm cold, so you've gotta be, plus we both smell like ass."

Warm steam ghosted out from the shower and teased at her face; oh, that's exactly what she needed. Shepard didn't waste any time getting in, not bothering to see if Thane would follow; she knew he would. The assassin rarely turned down an invitation from her and she didn't expect he'd start now.

She sighed as hot water enveloped her, drenching her hair and washing away yesterday's grime from her body. She was grabbing for the shampoo when she heard the shower door sliding open behind her and a smile came to her face.

"You wanna wash my hair?" She only asked because she knew he loved doing it and she wanted to make him happy again. He was absolutely fascinated with her hair.

He responded by taking the bottle from her hands and they traded places, Shepard moving out of the direct stream of water so that he could get her lathered up.

Shepard heard a bottle squeeze behind her, which was quickly followed by Thane's fingers massaging her scalp. She groaned at the deftness of his touch and her headache was reduced to a dull throb, the circular kneading motions enough to soothe it. He touched a sore spot where she'd bumped it on the stall, her breath hissing, and he muttered an apology, running his fingers out through her hair and working the soap into her roots.

It brought back memories of the time she'd taught him how to braid it; he'd enjoyed it so much, marveling at the individual strands and how he could group and bind them together into a whole piece. Shepard had never seen him look quite so enthralled, but being that it seemed like humans were the only things out there with a head of hair, it made sense. She'd have to let him do it again sometime.

"Mmm, I think that's good enough, water hog," she turned around to face him and slapped at his thigh, shooing him. "Outta the way, so I can rinse it."

They swapped spots again. "You've had much more time under the water than me, I think."

"I also got in first," she quipped.

"Irrelevant, a poor attempt at justifying your greed."

Shepard laughed, suds dripping down her shoulders as the last of the shampoo was washed from her hair. "Kiss my ass."

He smiled at her. "A fine offer."

She stared at Thane as she reached for the soap, his striped arms crossed in front of him, and snorted. That clever son of a bitch always got the last word. Someday, she'd win. Until then, she was just going to glare at him, a hint of floral scent tickling at her nose. He looked rather smug.

"I hope you're freezing over there, my love, I really do," she said, flicking water at him.

He hardly flinched as the water hit him, just shrugging—a gesture he'd picked up from the time he'd spent with Shepard—and looking all too cool. "You're beginning to look like a dried human fruit…a prune, Siha."

She made a face at him. He always won. Oh, sometimes she hated it. But right now, she loved it.

"A sexy prune?"

"That goes without saying."

Shepard had to work the bar of soap around to a lather in her hands because she'd forgotten a wash cloth in her haste, and as she turned it around between sudsy fingers, she got lost in her thoughts, thinking how funny it was that he was just standing there watching her, and she must have squeezed the soap too hard because it popped out of her grip and onto the floor.

She quirked an eyebrow.

What a motherfucking cliché. This must have been some kind of karma thing, the universe's way of enacting revenge upon her for asking Jack, as soon as she'd gotten her onto the ship, if she'd ever dropped the soap.

How comedic.

She sucked it up and bent over to get it and when his cock was suddenly in her face, a thought popped into her head. This whole thing still wasn't really sitting right with her; his take on everything had somehow _sullied_ their escapades, and she didn't like it. In fact, she wouldn't…_stand_ for it. He needed some convincing.

Instead of picking up the soap, she found herself on her knees again, looking up at him through the water that was pelting her in the face to see his reaction. He stared down at her, first and second lids blinking in harmony, and she pressed her lips together, suppressing a grin.

"What are you doing, Siha?"

She failed in suppressing it this time, a lopsided smirk gracing her angular features in full force. "Nothing," she brushed her fingers across a kneecap, then spread her hands and smoothed them up his thighs. They were muscular, smooth and textured, the same black stripes that covered him elsewhere lining them attractively. "What are you doing?"

"Ah, well I was under the impression that I was watching you pick up soap, but apparently I was mistaken." He didn't even react in the slightest to her hands on him. He was so…irritatingly good at this. She'd have to put a stop to it.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, I _promise_." She took him into her hand and gently tightened her grip, sliding in an upward motion, and he gasped.

"That's not—" she cut him off, but not with words, and leaned forward, the water now down pouring on her back instead of her face. She swirled her tongue around his tip and a quiet groan tore through him— it seemed that he suddenly had _profuse_ trouble formulating complete sentences.

"Siha, please…don't. _Stop_."

"See there? Now you're speaking my language. Besides, that could easily be interpreted as 'don't stop,' so I'm not going to." She continued to stroke him into hardness, water still raining down on them, but mostly on her. He felt rigid and bumpy in her hand, ribbed, but not painfully so; his skin gave under her constant touch.

"No, I—"

"I still don't feel like you're okay with what happened. I want you to be okay with it," she continued in her movements, slow enough that he could still function, teasing him with one hand and batting away at the fingers trying to prevent her from continuing with the other. "I need you to be okay with it."

"Siha…" he paused for a moment, gasping and then taking a deep breath, and then chewed on the plush flesh of his lower lip. "What happened is evident in the bruises on your body. My behavior…it is inexcusable."

She licked him again from base to tip before responding, pulling what almost sounded like a whimper from his pouty lips. "But did you like it?"

He didn't respond immediately and Shepard looked up at him from her position on the floor, the water not as hot as it had been but still comfortably warm, and watched as he leaned into the tiled wall behind him. His head tilted back and his eyes closed, his breath coming out in soft pants. His brows were pinched upward as if he were trying to concentrate very deeply on something, but was instead getting caught up in her distractions.

"Whether or not I liked it is irrelevant."

"Listen, I'm going to strike a deal with you. Admit you liked last night as much as I did and I'll stop."

"Siha, I d—"

"Admit it." She gripped him harder, moving her hand along his shaft a little faster, wrenching quiet noises from him.

"Fine, Siha—ah, I liked it…I liked last night."

"Just kidding, I'm not going to stop." He hadn't said it with enough _conviction_.

"Oh, you are—"

"Just relax, Thane." And with that, she took his full length into her mouth, already throbbing hard, until it hit the back of her throat.

She elicited a sharp moan from him, one tinged with the distinctive sound of surprise, and he involuntarily bucked his hips forward; Shepard's hands shot out to steady him, her head pulling back slightly so that he didn't overwhelm her, and she tightened her lips around him. Shepard knew Thane, she knew he liked it when she did this, and she knew that the only reason he was so persistent in wanting her to stop was because he still felt _guilty_ over something she'd thoroughly enjoyed.

She bobbed her head, hollowing her cheeks, and then tilted back until only the tip of his member remained in her mouth before descending as far back down as she could go, working the muscles in the back of her throat around him, tasting and stimulating him with her tongue; he felt heavy in her mouth and she moaned and hummed around him, the vibrations from her vocal cords intensifying the feeling. His fists were balled at his sides and he trembled against her, losing the want to fight her. It was a good sign, but he wasn't there yet.

His cries encouraged her, egged her on; the sound of him letting go and slowly unwinding in her mouth turned her on way more than she had thought it would have the first time they'd experimented in this way—she'd never really liked doing this for anyone before.

The taste of his pre-cum was saccharine on her tongue and it tingled as if she'd just licked the end of a battery, a familiar prickling sensation spreading through her. It started in her lips and moved outward across her cheeks, burning along the shells of her ears—it was a remarkable feeling, something she never quite tired of.

Hyperawareness settled over Shepard and the feel of him on her tongue, of her tongue sliding along his length, began to feel pleasurable to her in a sense that it was almost orgasmic. The first time it'd happened she'd been so freaked out that she'd had to stop, embarrassed that he'd forever have memory of it.

Whatever chemical it was that caused her to have hallucinations, it had to have been far more potent down low, because it made her trip for hours, this kind of high far different from her normative experience; the high she got from kissing him or tasting of his skin tended to quell down in strength after a few minutes, but this seemed to keep going, wracking through her, never settling.

Instead of feeling tired or clouded, she was energetic and sharp, almost jittery. Rather than her ears rushing, she felt like she could hear more clearly than she ever had before; she had the mad thought that if for some reason, a pin dropped on the crew deck, she would surely be able to hear it rattle onto the floor.

Everything within her field of vision felt magnified, and she fleetingly recalled that after the first time she had finished doing this for Thane, she had stared deeply into her fish tank, hands and face pressed tightly against the glass, watching intently as Illium Skald darted about, swearing that she could see every organ in their tiny bodies. She'd tried explaining this quite animatedly to Thane, but was disappointed that her efforts had only garnered chuckles and looks of disbelief.

Sadly, she had kept pressing the feed button, marveling out loud at how it'd looked sinking into the water. She'd thought that she could see what was food traveling through them as they'd consumed it, giggling as their mouths had puffed out around the flakes at every opportunity, which had led to an untimely demise for all of them.

She had blamed Thane for not stopping her, saying that his amusement had been a crappy excuse for what'd happened to the poor little guys. They'd reached a consensus that next time, she'd definitely be banned from the fish tank.

These thoughts passed quickly through her mind, the feel of water pounding down on her back sharpening in intensity. It broke her silent reverie, and she felt like the water was an extension of her being, like she was fluidly melting into a puddle around herself—it was so deeply corporeal that it would have been jarring had she not been expecting it.

Despite these distractions, Shepard was attentive, her moans muffling around him, and every time she descended down on him, he rumbled out a groan that tickled at her mouth and the back of her throat.

Everything felt good, like she was having the best fucking day of her life. Even her teeth felt amazing in her gums, the scent of floral soap so tantalizing that she felt she could eat a bar of it if she willed to do so, and the taste of Thane in her mouth was quite possibly the best flavor she had ever experienced. She was tingly, bristly, and her nerves were bouncing and bunching around on her skin uncontrollably.

"Siha" was a whispered mantra, echoing about the walls of the shower, and it coupled beautifully with the hissing sound of water that was now rapidly cooling.

Shepard felt the overwhelming need to touch something, to move her fingers, to do more than what they were currently. Gripping his hips was not enough, so she reached out and spread her hands over Thane's sensitive stomach, it jerking under her gentle contact, and he reflexively rolled into her, arching out beautifully before her.

This time she didn't pull back or attempt to steady him, but rather reveled in the feel of him moving freely in her suctioned mouth. His flesh beneath her hands was deeply lined and textured, exciting the pads of her fingertips, and she looked up at him to find that he was looking down at her, seeking out eye contact and also wanting to watch what her mouth looked like as she took him in. For a dizzying moment, she saw a reflection of herself in his large, black eyes.

Two things then happened simultaneously: first, she felt a palm stroking the back of her hand from where she'd placed it on his stomach. He pulled it away from his skin, wrapping his hand around hers and interlacing their fingers, his mouth slightly ajar and lips puffy from where he had bitten down on them. She then, secondly, felt his other hand on her head, quickly realizing that it wasn't placed there to try to hold her in place or to force her to take him in deeper, but so his fingers could curl in her hair to feel it, to pet her. Both of these things made her heart clench; small things like this were why she had easily fallen in love with him.

When she did something right, she was rewarded a moan and a tight squeeze from the hand holding hers. Everything felt good; she was throbbing, aching, wanting, and Shepard couldn't help or take it anymore. She spread her knees, a hand working its way between her thighs so that she could touch herself, quick and needy in her movements.

Thane finally tensed against her, vocalizing in quiet gasps, this time not asking her to pull away as he had done many times before, aware of her preferences. It didn't take her long to reach her peak afterwards and she moaned again around him, cumming hard with the sweet taste of his ejaculate on her tongue.

She laggardly drew him from her mouth, taking a final few moments to tease his oversensitive length, and he brushed wet tendrils of hair from her face. Her teeth were beginning to chatter, Thane noticing and quickly turning off the shower. He disappeared behind the shower door and Shepard sat in a daze, looking at the water puddled around her and sliding her fingers over it in silent awe.

She felt _so_ funky.

Shepard's head popped up as Thane poked his way back into the shower, towel in hand; he was eying her with a slight smile, his lips curled in amusement, and he squatted down next to where she was still seated. It didn't surprise him in the least that she had not yet moved.

She whimpered when she felt the towel on her head, her face shaking comically as he dried her hair in the way she'd once shown him, his laugh ringing out softly at the look she wore.

"Thane, it was funny."

He moved the towel downwards, drying her neck, her back, and her torso.

"What was, Siha?"

"I thought," laughter interrupted her sentence and she raised her hands to cup his face. "I thought I was the water."

He kissed her nose, neglecting to respond, and pulled her up to her feet. She leaned heavily against him as he finished drying her, the occasional mewl escaping Shepard's lips, and picked her up to carry her to the bedroom.

Thane tossed her onto the bed and she giggled again, latching onto him as he curled up beside her. She murmured contentedly as he tugged the sheets around them and then cuddled more tightly against him, stroking along his throat and rubbing circles into his chest. She just had to keep feeling things, touching them, not able to fight the compulsion.

"Did you really hate last night?"

Thane's lips pressed together as he thought quietly, running his fingers through her shaggy, towel dried hair. "I believe there's a human phrase for this…"

Her caressing finger turned into a poke. "Don't you dare ask me if bears shit in the woods."

He paused and chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of it, Siha."

Shepard's expression constipated, her mouth quirking and eyebrows furrowing. "Who…who even fucking thought of that saying, anyways?"

"It's probable that it was someone as equally as strange as you."

She bit her lip, feigning a frown. "You're a butt."

"Not near as alluring, however."

Shepard laughed and bit his collar bone, his arms wrapping tightly around her as he smelled her hair.

"Do you mind if I go look at the fish?" She moved to get up, not waiting for an answer, and Thane's arms tightened, not allowing her to shift from her position even slightly.

"Siha…"

It was going to be a long day.


End file.
